Carrying On After the Fight
by SXYPigeon
Summary: A series of random one-shots from HPDH and possibly beyond. Ranges from fluff to drama, something for every taste.
1. Healing

For the most part, the enthusiastic celebrating had ended hours ago. Those left among the living were slowly returning from their highs induced by the culmination of Riddle's reign of terror. A somber mood had descended upon the Great Hall, but through the cloud of mourning, hope managed to shine through like early morning rays of the sun.

Like most in the Hall, two of the "Golden Trio" were comforting their family (or "adoptive" family in the case of the brunette). Though relieved the major fighting of the war had ended, neither could deny the crushing pain of losing so many loved ones. They were numb to their numerous injuries and lack of rest; both were still covered in soot from cheating death in the Room of Requirements.

The taller of the two watched as his petite friend conversed with Ginny and grinned when she managed to extract a small laugh from his little sister. He himself was talking to Charlie, trying to make sense of the morning's events. He couldn't help but smile; it was a relief knowing things like laughter still existed in such depressing times. The two women made their way over to them. "Any sign of Harry, or is he still mingling?" said Ginny.

"Last I saw, he was talking to Seamus and his mum," said Ron. Ginny didn't respond, but turned and headed towards Percy.

"I'm goin' a see if I can get a word out George," said Charlie as he walked away. George hadn't left his twin's side since the end of the fighting and had yet to utter more than two words to anyone. "I hope he has better luck than your parents," Hermione said softly as she watched Charlie's retreating figure. Ron took that moment to take in her figure. Her shoulders were bowed slightly with exhaustion; her clothes were singed and darkened by soot and blood; her face was drawn and pale beneath the grime from their adventures in last twenty-four hours. "How are you doing?" she whispered, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Ron stared into Hermione's eyes and tried his best to think of a way to put into words all of the emotions coursing through his sore and tired body. "I have no idea," he said truthfully. "I mean… it's just that, I don't think it's all sunk in yet, you know? When I told Charlie how we escaped Gringrotts, it felt like I was telling him about someone else. And the battle, it feels like it was days ago, but it hasn't been more than a few hours. And Lupin and Tonks a-and…" - Hermione grasped his hand as he faltered - "and Fred… it just feels like a bad dream, you know? I keep expecting Fred to just wake up and finish his joke or something like that." By that time, his voice was no louder than a whisper and was fighting the tumultuous emotions he'd kept hidden all that morning.

Hermione was at a loss for words for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning, so she did the only thing she could do; she pulled him gently into her arms and simply held him. She felt his arms tighten around her weary body as he buried his face in her tangled hair. How long they stayed like that, Hermione didn't know, but when Ron resurfaced he was wiping tears from his tired eyes. He savored her touch as Hermione wiped away a tear he had missed. As he stared down at her face, he was surprised to see her eyes were also wet, but she did not seem to notice. He copied her and brought his hand to her face. A look of confusion crossed her countenance and she brushed away the tears from the other side of her face. "I must be more tired than I thought if I can't even tell when I'm crying anymore," she said with a weak smile.

"Let's sit down then; I think we've earned that right," he said as he led her to a vacant bit of bench. Hermione collapsed wearily down onto it with a sigh as Ron sat and put his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into the warmth of his worn body and relaxed slightly. As Ron watched his family, Hermione closed her eyes and thought about what he had said, "…it feels like it was days ago."

She felt much the same as him; nothing had really sunken in yet. Their trip to Gringrotts and their escape seemed like weeks ago not within the last twenty-four hours. And she had nearly forgotten about their meeting with Aberforth and the gathering in the Room of Requirements shortly afterwards. Though much of the battle was a blur, some things stood out as clearly as the moment they had happened.

The first of which was Ron's and her decent in to the Chamber of Secretes, his brilliance in that desperate time had astounded her. She hadn't realized he knew Parseltongue (even if it was just one word). And then there was the moment in the Room of Requirements; she still didn't quite understand why she chose that particular moment to express her affection towards her ginger haired friend. She could still feel his slightly chapped lips moving against her own and his warm hands in her hair and on her back… She opened her eyes with a snap; now was not the time to lose herself in that particularly enjoyable memory. She instead joined Ron in watching the Weasley's.

Ginny and Percy were talking to Bill and Fleur, while Charlie was with Molly and Arthur near where George sat with his twin's corpse. They all just seemed so… lost. It was like they were waiting for something or for someone to tell them the next move or plan of attack. The first four wore strained smiles, though not from disguised dislike, but from exhaustion. Charlie was holding his mother as she sobbed, while Arthur knelt beside George and tried to talk to him. It was a heart wrenching sight. Ron and Hermione watched as Percy hesitantly approached George while Ginny and Charlie led Molly to a bench a short ways from Fred's body.

"What are we going to do now?" Ron said quietly. Hermione looked up into his face; confusion and sadness adorned his hansom features.

"We carry on I suppose," she said after some thought. "We mourn and heal and live. We all came here to fight to make our world a safer place, one where we don't have to fear for the lives of our loved ones or our own everyday. To do anything else would be an insult to the memory the fallen."

Ron stared into her fiery eyes, amazed. "How is it that you know everything?" he said with a grin.

Hermione laughed, "I can't remember the last time you asked me that." Ron smiled; her laugh was soothing and contagious. As they sobered up, Hermione once again leaned into his body and closed her eyes. Ron focused again on his family. Charlie had left their mother with Ginny and was talking to Bill and Fleur. Percy and George were embracing while their father watched on with a sad smile. Ron smiled; maybe there was hope for all of them yet.


	2. Sleeping

The castle was silent though it was nearly noon. Even Peeves and the resident ghosts seemed to have lost their voices as they silently floated along the deserted corridors inspecting the damage caused such a short time ago. Filch and Mrs. Norris were nowhere to be found; they escaped the castle before the fighting began.

The sun bathed the battered remains of the once great school in light and warmth, revealing crumbing walls and blood stained floors and grounds. The fallen lay in the Great Hall as if sleeping under the bright sky. The mourners had retired to their homes or to the recently vacated dormitories.

The latter was the case for the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione.

Like the castle, the sixth year girls' dormitory was silent save for the sound of three breathing women. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny had been persuaded by Mr. Weasley to take a bit of sleeping drought before bed. Hermione had declined it when offered saying that she could hardly stay awake at the time as she was. Had she known just how troubled her dreams would be, she would have reconsidered the offer.

A sharp gasp tore through the stillness of the dormitory. The weary brunette sat bolt upright gasping for breath staring around the room, wand in hand, straining to remember where she was. _Hogwarts. Not Malfoy Manor. Not Godric's Hollow._ The war was over. Everyone was safe. She sighed in frustration and let her head fall into her hands as she waited for her sprinting heart to slow. _After having these dreams so many times before, you'd think they'd get easier to deal with_, she thought bitterly. She rubbed the thin scar on her neck angrily. Chills ran up and down her spine as she could still almost feel the sting of the Cruciatus Curse coursing through her veins, the terror of watching Nagini suffocate the man she considered her brother, the anguish of Ron's departure; the dream had been so real.

She looked over at her dorm mates; both seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Smiling sadly, she walked to the door. The Weasleys had suffered so much; she had no desire to disturb their slumber, _Not that I could anyway.  
_  
The common room was near blinding with the midday sun shining brightly. So much so that she didn't immediately notice her ginger-haired friend standing near a window. "Morning, Sleepyhead," he said softly.

Hermione turned abruptly and instinctively drew her wand. There stood Ron, rather wide-eyed.

She sighed and lowered her weapon. "Sorry," she muttered embarrassed.

Ron walked over and embraced her. "Rough night, or. . . ah, morning?"

Hermione held on to him tighter. "You could say that," she said almost inaudibly. His strong arms had always had a knack for protecting her from her own thoughts and fears, no matter what state-of-mind she was in.

With a sniffle, she loosened her hold on him and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Thank you," she said, not quite meeting his eyes.

Ron took notice, but didn't press the matter. "I've got something to show you," he said as he took her hand and led her to the window he'd been standing by earlier. Looking down on the grounds, Hermione saw an amazing sight. At least two-dozen creatures were roaming the blood stained battlegrounds; they looked like black, skeletal horses with broad, bat-like wings.

"Thestrals," she whispered in wonder. Ron smiled beside her. Her reaction had been the same as his when he saw them for the first time an hour ago. Her lips moved wordlessly as she struggled to speak. "I - I can't believe we rode on those fifth year," she said at last with smile, stifling a yawn.

"I think the whole not-being-able-to-see-them thing was probably a good thing; they don't exactly look inviting. Buckbeak was bad enough," he said. Ron watched her reflection in the glass; she was studying the creatures as if preparing for an exam. Even after everything the three of them had been through in the last year, it was comforting to know that some things would never change. After a few minutes, he asked, "So do you want to talk about it?"

He felt her body tense. "About what?"

"Your dream," he said patiently. Hermione relaxed slightly. Though her dream wasn't exactly something she wanted to discuss, it was better than discussing what happened in the Room of Requirement. It wasn't that she regretted it, it just hadn't been the best timing.

She sighed tiredly and leaned back into body unconsciously. "There isn't really anything to discuss. It's just like the ones the three of us have been having from the beginning; just relieving some rather unpleasant memories is all." She turned from the window and looked at him. "This going to sound silly, really. . . . We haven't even been apart for more than four hours, but I already missed you. . . and Harry," she added as an after thought. "It's just kind of ridiculous, isn't it?"

Ron put his arms around her once again. "Not at all, I couldn't sleep, for a lot of reasons, but mostly because you weren't in the same room. I think we both got too used to sleeping together." His ears burned scarlet at his unintended implication, "I mean in separate beds of course," he added nervously.

Hermione fought the urge to laugh at her friend's embarrassment. "I suppose you're right. . . it just seemed too quiet without your snoring," she said grinning mischievously.

Ron rolled his eyes, "Funny, I had the exact opposite problem. . . a room full of Weasley men after all." The two quietly laughed. With a cheeky grin, he stared down at her. Her eyes danced with laughter; a long way from the haunted look she had had when she first came down.

Hermione looked up into his face to find the same smile that never ceased to make her heart flutter and butterflies materialize in her stomach. Her laughter and breath caught in her throat as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. Her heart raced faster and the butterflies quickened as if the little buggers had been given an enormous amount of caffeine as she stared into his intense gaze.

Ron's nerves were beginning to catch up with him as he looked into her dark eyes. He noticed her lips were slightly parted and - he swallowed nervously - moist, _So bloody inviting_. His failing courage, however, was replaced by an unconscious need to be near her, to feel her lips again. It was that need that finally drew his lips to hers.

It was as if the butterflies had spontaneously combusted within her, leaving behind an intense warmth that quickly spread throughout her trembling body. Ron lips were intoxicating; though the kiss was slow and gentle, it was driving Hermione insane. Not that she minded. And although her knees were weakening, her need to be closer to him over took all rational thought; she couldn't get enough. She threaded her hands through his unruly hair and bridged what was left of the gap between their bodies.

The heat and friction between the two of them was quickly clouding Ron's mind. He couldn't help but notice how her kiss mimicked her personality; timid and unsure at first, but then quickly shifting to confident and even a little competitive. The thought that he brought this passionate side out of her almost sent him spiraling over the edge. The sound of her breathless moan very nearly did; it was enough to cause him to back her gently against the stone wall behind her. He felt, rather than heard, her gasp as her shoulders came into contact with the cold wall.

Coherent thought flowed into Hermione's feverish mind as she felt the cool stone through her pajamas and Ron's cleaver hands on the over heated skin of her lower back and hip. _This feels so damn good, but. . ._ she slowed the kiss slightly, _We can't let this get out of hand._ To her relief, Ron seemed to understand and followed her lead. Several lingering kisses later, the two stood in each other's arms catching their breaths.

As he held her, Ron's mind wandered back to his thoughts from before she came into the room. Wherever Fred was, he was probably laughing and saying something along the lines of "It's about bloody time!" _I couldn't agree more,_ Ron thought contently. Though their breathing had returned to normal, the two maintained their positions simply enjoying the closeness of the moment, until Hermione's yawn woke them from their thoughts.

"You seem awfully tired," he said with a cheeky tone.

"No thanks to you," she said, slightly muffled as she spoke into his chest trying to hide her blush. "I - I don't want to leave you," she said softly after a pause, "not after all that's happened."

Ron contemplated their surroundings. "Then stay down here with me. If I do recall, the sofa is pretty comfortable."

Hermione smiled and blushed deeper. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea." The two slowly made their way to the aged sofa they had lounged upon during happier times. On the floor by the fire were various textbooks and partially finished essays reminding them just how suddenly the battle had come and gone. By the way Hermione was studying the titles of the essays, Ron had a strong suspicion that, if given the chance, she'd probably correct them without a second thought.

"So . . . you want to finish their game?" Ron asked looking at a chessboard on a near by table, effectively pulling her attention from the unfinished homework to the situation at hand.

"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered exasperatedly.

Ron chuckled, "I take it that's a 'no' then?" She rolled her eyes and looked longingly at the couch. "Okay, okay," he said as he flopped down onto the sofa on his back. He patted bit of cushion between himself and the back of the sofa. Hermione moved to his reclining form. She felt herself blush crimson as she caught his eye while straddling his body to move to the spot he alluded to; both broke-out in nervous laughter.

She settled herself on her side resting her head on his shoulder and a hand on his chest; he wrapped his arms around her protectively and felt her relax against him. After a few short minutes, he noticed her breathing slow and her body grow heavier. "Mione, you awake?" he whispered. Upon getting no reply, he continued, "I'm sure you already figured it out by now, but um, I just wanted to say 'I love you'." Ron quickly drifted peacefully off to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

Molly Weasley woke to the sound of silence with a frown. After being married to Arthur for over twenty-five years, she had come to find the sound of snoring comforting. All she heard that morning - _No wait, afternoon _- was the sound of her daughter breathing softly in the bed beside hers. She frowned again. Where was her 'other daughter'? Hermione's bed was empty and cold, looking as if it hadn't been slept in for hours. Molly washed and dressed trying to think of where Hermione could be. She bent over Ginny and placed a kiss on her forehead and made her way to the common room.

Long shadows lined the floor and walls and the sound of gentle snoring filled the room. She walked quietly to the sofa to find her son and the woman he clearly loved sleeping serenely. Tears of joy escaped her eyes as she laid a quilt from a neighboring chair over the teenagers. She couldn't help but notice just how thin and pale the two had become since the wedding; she would have to do something about that as soon as they returned to the Burrow. Wiping the tears away, she made her way to the Great Hall smiling and thinking about how good a cup of strong coffee sounded.

* * * * * * * * * *

Hermione woke comfortable and warm; something that had been quite rare in the months since the beginning of their quest. Ron's scent was all around her, almost as enticing as his touch or kiss. The room was quiet save the sound of their breathing. _How long has he been awake?_ She lifted her head to find him grinning broadly. "Evening, Sleepyhead."

"Good evening to you, too," she said biting back an uncharacteristic giggle. "How long have you been up?"

"Not long, I didn't want to wake you; I was afraid you might hex me or something. That and you look quite adorable when you sleep," he added with a smile, enjoying watching Hermione blush.

She was speechless for a moment, comprehending what Ron had said. "You know, I could still hex you."

"Yeah, I know, but your wand is on the table and you'd have to reach across me to get it," he replied, drawing her closer to him. "Besides, why would you want to hex me?" he asked in pseudo-innocence before pulling her into a soft kiss.

As they drew apart, she whispered, "Umm… what were we talking about?" They both laughed.

"We should really get going though," she said.

"I suppose you're right," he replied. The cocky grin was gone, replaced by a sad smile.

"Hey, we'll go down together, have breakfast - or dinner - and face whatever comes," she said staring at him fiercely. "I'll be there with you. We'll make it through, okay?" she whispered before hugging him tightly.

"Yeah," he said thickly.

As the two headed to their respective dorms, Hermione remembered something.

"Hey, Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sure you already know it, but I - I love you, too." With that, she ascended the staircase.

Ron stood there, staring at the spot Hermione had occupied just seconds ago, smiling broadly.


	3. Chapter 23

Draco had been informing his parents about the newest developments at Hogwarts when they were informed of their visitors. He watched as his mother left slightly annoyed; they weren't expecting anyone that evening. Draco felt his blood run cold at the sight of their _guests_; there before him and his father stood the _Golden Trio_. Regardless of the fact he hated the three of them, Draco by no means wished death on them, not anymore at least. The last few months he had spent torturing others by the Dark Lord's command and watching countless victims succumb to the Killing Curse had made one thing very clear to him: he was not cut out for this job.

If it hadn't been a life or death situation, he might have found the whole thing rather amusing. Never in his life had Draco envisioned those three in his home and completely at his mercy. _Potter, what the bloody hell happened to him?_ he thought as he was questioned about Potter's identity. Potter had always been the _annoying-git-who-lived_, but now he was the _annoying-ugly-as-arse-git-who-lived_.

Potter wouldn't meet his stare, not that Draco was complaining. Guilt and remorse were tearing away at his gut mercilessly; the faces of those he'd hurt or those he'd watched die flooded his mind. Not handing Potter over seemed to be the only way to appease his conscience.

Needless to say, his parents weren't happy at all when he replied that he wasn't sure of Potter's identity and began discussing the consequences if the ugly git wasn't Potter.

"What about the Mudblood, then?" he heard Greyback growl impatiently. He watched as the mass of bound bodies was turned violently placing Granger in full view. His mother spoke up right away having recognized her from Madam Malkin's and his father identified Weasley (as he was bound next to her).

All Draco could say was, "Yeah, it could be," before his aunt emerged from the study. They were effed now and, judging by the way the trio's faces drained of color, they knew it, too. There was nothing more he could do for them, and to his surprise, Draco found it to be bloody disappointing.

It was ironic that Granger had been the one everyone had recognized. She wasn't famous; she didn't have obnoxiously ginger hair. She just had the misfortune of having her picture posted in the _Prophet_ for not showing up at the Ministry and for being sighted with Potter a few weeks earlier.

Draco's thoughts were interrupted, however, by his father's and his aunt's fight over who would call the Dark Lord. _And they say children are immature._ The fight came to a sudden halt when Aunt Bella asked what one of the Snatchers had in his hands. _Those greedy bastards never had a chance_. With the sword in hand, she demanded to know where it had come from. _The Sword of Gryffindor, wasn't that supposed to be in her vault? _

Aunt Bella was bloody scary when she's mad and down right lethal when she's nervous, so it was no surprise that the entire room fell silent while she decided what was to be done. After a short fight between sisters, Aunt Bella gave the orders. He was to take the snatchers outside and Greyback was to take the prisoners to the cellars. That was fine with him; maybe there was a chance for the trio of gits after all. That thought was smashed when his aunt changed her mind and told Greyback to leave Granger in the drawing room. That didn't seem to go over well with Weasley, who was idiotic enough to voice his opinion, "No! You can have me, keep me!" Draco felt a bit of pity for the fool as his aunt struck him across the face and informed him that he'd be next if Granger died under questioning.

Weasley's outburst hardly surprised Draco though; Weasley had always been protective of Granger. While Granger hardly seemed to notice when he called her a Mudblood, Weasley was always ready to "duel for her honor" as it were.

He levitated the unconscious Snatchers outside while Greyback moved the rest of the prisoners downstairs and Aunt Bella threw Granger to the middle of the room. He wanted to take his time and avoid returning to the drawing room; he knew what fate awaited Granger. But he also knew that pissing-off his aunt anymore wasn't exactly a good idea if he wanted to remain part of the living.

Draco returned swiftly to find his aunt pacing in front of the fire place staring at the sword and Granger standing in the middle of room watching his aunt's every move. Judging by the fact that Granger was still standing, he concluded that Aunt Bella hadn't started the _questioning_ yet. Then, without warning, his aunt's wand was drawn and Granger fell to her knees screaming. Bella held to curse for a good twenty seconds before releasing her.

Granger was face down, grasping for breath; her body was shaking violently from the lingering effects of the curse. "Let me make this crystal clear for you Miss Mudblood, you can either tell me how this sword came into your possession and I can have you thrown in the cellar with your friends or we can continue with the Cruciatus Curse until you tell me what I want to know. Which would you prefer?" his aunt said to Granger.

By that time, Granger had pulled herself to her knees. Her face was chalk white and her clothes seemed to hang off her body; Draco found himself wondering when was the last time she'd had a decent meal. Though she was still shaking and panting, a pensive look crossed her continence as she stared at the floor for a moment before meeting Aunt Bella's glare and answering in a wavering, yet sincere voice, "The latter, please."

Bella's face contorted with fiery and outrage as she turned the curse on Granger again. The force of the curse sent Granger sliding across the rug nearly a meter, before her head came in contact hard with the wood floor, his aunt screaming insults at her all the while.

_Why the bloody hell did she even answer? _Draco thought to himself. Then it hit him, _She _knows _she's going to die. Is she trying to give Potter more time before his inevitable demise, trying to give him more time to find a way to escape? _He glanced around the room and caught the look on Greyback's face as he watched Granger scream and twitch; the amount of lust in Greyback's eyes sickened him.

After Bella finally lifted the curse, Granger was on her back, tears and sweat lining her face. She rolled to one side and cradled her head in her hands. "I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? _Where?_" his aunt demanded.

"We found it-we found it-PLEASE!" Granger screamed just before Bella cursed her again. Granger's screams were eating away at Draco's conscience as maliciously as any of his aunt's curses. _Just let her lose consciousness, anything, make the screaming stop!_ He felt ill, but there was nothing he could do.

Cold hatred seemed to permanently etch itself into his aunt's face as she handed the sword to his mother while maintaining the curse. Granger was in for it now he knew.

As soon as Bella lifted the curse, she began again, "You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, _tell the truth_!" Bella didn't give her a chance to do more than shake her head or catch her breath, but immediately put her under the curse again.

Bella stooped down next to Granger after lifting the curse and screamed, "What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!" Granger's unfocused eyes were trained on the short knife his aunt had hovering above her face. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came. Disgust and impatience lined Aunt Bella's face as she began the curse again.

Draco was sure that he was just as pale a Granger now; he was surely shaking as much as she was just before the questioning began. Bella's patience was wearing dangerously thin; it would be over soon, if not with Granger's loss of consciousness then by her death.

Again his aunt didn't give Granger a chance to catch her breath, but merely lifted the curse long enough to scream at her, "What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! _CRUCIO!_"

He could feel the sweat forming on his brow and lip as the urge to vomit became worse.

Bella released her and stooped down again and said softly to her, "If you don't tell me, I will bring your bloodtraitor boyfriend up here and make him watch as I kill you before questioning _him_, how does that sound?" Granger's eyes were wide with fear as she shook her head rather violently. His aunt stood and glared as she cursed her; his aunt knew she had Granger's attention now.

Granger's screams were worse than ever now; Draco knew she wouldn't last much longer. The fact that she'd lasted as long as she had under his aunt's wand was a remarkable feat in itself; most of those he'd been forced to torture hadn't lasted as long. He was now staring into the fire trying to block out the cries of agony and the physical pain his conscience was causing him.

"How did you get into my vault? Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?" Bella screamed.

Granger looked up at his aunt and, while choking back sobs, said, "We only met him tonight! We've never been inside your vault. . . . It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!" Her mouth and lips were stained red, making her look more ghastly than she already did.

"A copy? Oh, a likely story!" Bella screeched cynically.

"But we can find out easily! Draco, fetch the goblin; he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!" came his father's excited voice. Draco nodded and left quickly, anything to get away from that room.

The coolness of the staircase to the cellar was refreshing and did wonders for calming his nerves and the pain in his gut. At the door, he said as confidently as he could, "Stand back. Line up against the back wall. Don't try anything, or I'll kill you!" He found the goblin and half dragged him back up the stairs.

As Draco walked into the room, he took a look around. Granger was exactly where she was when he had left, Aunt Bella was pacing in front of the fire again, his mother was slightly pale, his father was sitting as contently as if he was watching a Quidditch match, and Greyback's lustful gaze was trained on Granger's beaten body.

"It's about time," his aunt said before cursing Granger. "You'll stay conscious if you want to live, Mudblood," she said after the curse was lifted. "Now," she said to the goblin, "Goblin, this pathetic excuse for a human seems to think this sword is not the goblin-made Sword of Gryffindor. You will tell me if this is indeed a fake or the real sword. Study it carefully; if you are wrong or are lying, I will kill you, understood?"

The goblin nodded and was handed the sword.

Bella glanced at Granger again and shoot another quick Cruciatus at her. Granger's breaths were coming shallow and fast now; if the goblin didn't make up his mind quickly Granger would sooner die of exhaustion than the Killing Curse.

A loud _crack_ was heard in the cellar prompting Draco's father to send Wormtail to investigate. The crack hadn't quite sounded like a normal _pop_ of an Apparation, but it did sound strangely familiar.

"What is it, Wormtail?" his father called after some time.

"Nothing! All fine!" came the reply. Draco ignored the forbidding feeling that was beginning to mix with the pain in gut and instead studied Granger.

She was on her stomach; her face turned towards him. Though her eyes were closed, Draco felt sure that she was still conscious. Concentration was evident on her face as she tried to steady her breathing; it was almost as if she was listening to something . . .

His thoughts were interrupted, however, by Granger's screams as his aunt put her under the curse again.

The goblin, Draco noticed, seemed as unmoved by Granger's screams of pain as his father, but merely continued to study the sword in his long fingered hands. Granger was curled on her side, facing Draco when the spell was lifted. She met his gaze briefly, just before her eyes rolled back into skull and she finally lost consciousness.

"Well? Is it the true sword?" his aunt asked impatiently.

"No, it is a fake," the goblin said still staring at the weapon.

"Are you sure, quite sure?"

"Yes," he replied looking up at her.

Relief broke across his aunt's face, all tension drained from it.

"Good," she said before slashing another deep cut onto the goblin's face. The goblin howled with pain and dropped to the floor. His aunt kicked him aside and said triumphantly, "And now, we call the Dark Lord!"

Draco felt his own dark mark burn as his aunt pressed her forefinger to her forearm, knowing that the everyone bearing the mark would feel the burn as well. It was over for Potter and his friends.

Potter's death sentence felt like his own as he listened to his aunt praised the Dark Lord and give more orders. This was the moment he was supposed to be looking forward to as a Death Eater; their most threatening enemy was about to be disposed of, along with his two most trusted allies. Celebrating couldn't have been further from Draco's mind.

"And I think we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her," he heard his aunt say before what sounded like war cry filled the once quiet room.

Draco watched in amazement as Weasley burst into the room casting _Expelliarmus_ at his aunt with Potter following behind him. Draco instinctively began throwing hexes and curses at the two intruders; the safety of his family and himself came before anyone else's, his conscience be damned. During the course of the fight, his father was rendered unconscious, leaving just himself, his mother, and Greyback armed. Draco was so busy fighting, he didn't notice his aunt approach Granger's unconscious form.

"STOP OF SHE DIES!" Aunt Bella roared above the chaos. All fighting ceased and all eyes focused on his aunt as she supported Granger while holding a knife to her throat.

"Drop your wands. Drop them or we'll see exactly how filthy her blood is!" his aunt whispered. Draco watched and Potter and Weasley straightened up, wands still in hand. _You idiots, she not bluffing! Just drop your bloody wands! _Draco wanted to shout at them. He knew Granger's screams would haunt him for years; he had no desire to watch her bleed to death on top of that.

"I said, drop them!" Aunt Bella screeched, pressing the blade into Granger's neck, staining the knife's blade crimson.

"All right!" he heard Potter shout. Draco watched as both Potter and Weasley dropped their wands and raised their hands in surrender.

"Good!" his aunt leered. "Draco, pick them up! The Dark Lord is coming, Harry Potter! Your death approaches!"

Draco hurried forward, avoiding their glares and returned to his aunt.

"Now, Cissy, I think we ought to tie these little heroes up again, while Greyback takes care of Miss Mudblood. I am sure the Dark Lord will not begrudge you the girl, Greyback, after what you have done tonight," his aunt said.

At her last words, a grinding noise was heard from above. Draco looked up to see the chandelier tremble, just before it began to fall. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his aunt release Granger and dive out of the way. Draco wasn't quite fast enough; though he avoided the falling chandelier, he was sprayed with bits of sharp crystal. He cried out in pain as he brought his hands to his bleeding face.

The rest of what happened became a blur for Draco; he felt someone grab at the wands still clenched in his hand and wrestle them away. He then felt some else pull him away from the middle of the room and behind a chair. The voices of his aunt and his family's former house elf Dobby filled his ears. Draco clawed through the pain and looked around. The house elf had just disarmed his mother, and his aunt and the elf were yelling again.

A sudden movement, like a flinch, from Potter caught his attention. "Ron, catch - and GO!" he said throwing Weasley a wand. Draco watched as Weasley pulled Granger's limp form into his arms and Potter hoisted the goblin on his shoulder and grabbed the elf's hand. As they both Disapparated, he saw his aunt hurl her knife in Potter's direction. With two loud _pop_s, the prisoners, the sword, and the knife were gone.

As Aunt Bella screamed in frustration and anger, Draco felt the pain in his gut disappear; his conscience was finally clear. Unfortunately, in its place was a quickly building fear, which grew exponentially at the sound of an Apparation in the entry way. They were the effed ones now. _I wish they would've taken me with them,_ was Draco's last thought before the Dark Lord entered the room.


	4. Chapter 24

The sky had been gray for weeks, raining nearly everyday. The last three days, however, had been mercifully dry, making the ground the prefect hardness for hasty Apparation landings. Something that Ronald Weasley was about to be very thankful for.

_POP!_

Into the empty, gray mist two young, battered insurgents appeared. The young man landed on his knees, but the weight of the unconscious woman in his arms pulled him down to his elbows as well. He remained still for a moment, hovering over the young woman in his arms, trying to catch his breath until her moan of pain roused him back into action. He shifted his weight back and pulled himself back onto his knees with the woman safely cradled in his arms against his chest. He felt his breath catch in his throat as the woman in his arms began to regain consciousness.

The air was cold and damp against her face; a steady breeze whisked away the warmth from around her body. A strong presence of salt in the air assaulted her senses of smell and taste. It was as if she was near the ocean, but that didn't make sense; she was still lying on the floor in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor, wasn't she? She let out a soft moan as she became aware of the nerves in her aching muscles firing painfully through her tired body. It was then that she felt movement around her; something long and hard was positioned under her shoulders and knees. She felt herself being lifted up until her body was firmly against something solid, but very warm. Thoroughly confused, she began to fight bitterly for consciousness.

He shivered when he felt her burrow her cold nose into the base of his neck. He let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding when he heard her broken voice.

"Where-?" she moaned softly. His tongue seemed to have glued itself to the roof of his mouth, rendering him unable to speak, so he gently squeezed her side to let her know of his presence. She tilted her face towards his and looked up with hollow and confused eyes. He watched as her confusion changed to surprise and disbelief and finally to joyous relief. He felt sobs rake her petite body as she buried her face in his neck again. He pulled her closer and wept tears of relief with her.

"Ron? Ron, what are you - Bloody hell! What happened to you two?" Bill asked after catching sight of the two of them; Fleur, Dean, and Luna were following close behind.

Ron looked up and took a look at himself and Hermione; both of them were covered in blood and lacerations and bruises. Hermione was staring at the group with the same look of surprise and disbelief she'd had before. Bill and Fleur were now crouching down in front of them, both looking worried.

"Come on . . . one of you say something, anything. . . . Where's Harry?" Almost as an answer to Bill's question, Harry's voice came ringing through the night air about one hundred meters away.

Harry's plead for help woke Hermione from her daze at last, "We're fine, Bill. We need to help Harry," she said in a hoarse voice as she tried to move to her feet, trying to hide her evident pain.

"Hermione, are you sure because you two look like you've been through hell and back?" Bill said skeptically.

Ron felt his tongue loosen, "Please Bill, check on Harry . . . I'm okay, I'll take care of 'Mione." Bill hesitated a second longer before he and the rest hurried off towards Harry.

"Let's get you inside, okay?" Ron said, annoyed at himself for how choked-up he sounded.

"Yeah, I guess." Her voice was laced with worry and exhaustion. Ron began to rise with Hermione in his arms when she interrupted him. "I'm fine, Ron. I can walk."

Ron let out a sigh of frustration. "That might have worked on Bill and the others, but I was there in case you forgot. I know what you went through." He stood and shifted her in his arms so he could see her face easier. "Just . . . for once in you life . . . pretend you aren't as stubborn as me and let me help you."

Hermione bit her split bottom lip and nodded as she wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder. Ron turned and found himself at the foot of the porch; he was exactly where he meant to Apparate to. He made his way slowly up the steps and into the house.

Little had changed since his last visit, only no Christmas tree this time. He carried her into the den to the only sofa in the room and laid her down, only to have her sit right back up. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Do you still have your bag?" he asked. She nodded and tried to reach for her right ankle, but only managed to reach her knee before groaning through her clenched teeth. "I'll get it, just relax," he said while gently laying her back down on the sofa. He pulled her pant leg up slightly and found the bag; he placed his hand on the chilled skin of her leg before replacing the clothing. "Are you cold?"

"A little," she said in a quiet voice. Ron turned and lit the fireplace.

"Alright, let's clean up some of this blood," he said nervously. Hermione sat up again. "You know, you can stay laying down?"

"Yes I know, but I can't. It makes my head hurt." Ron's look of concern deepened as he stood in front of her and brought his hands over hers behind her head where she was feeling for her injury. When she moved her hands away, he could feel a good sized bump beneath his hands.

"Will the charm you taught me yesterday work on it?" Hermione had been teaching him basic first aid out of boredom for the past week and a half.

"I think so, assuming I haven't cracked my skull."

Ron placed the tip of his wand on her head muttered the charm. Taking Hermione's sigh of relief as a sign that it had worked, he threaded his fingers through her hair and felt for anymore bumps. He was so focused on finding all of the wounds on her scalp he nearly missed her sigh of contentment, nearly missed how she was leaning into his hands as they moved slowly through her tangled hair.

Ron was given little time to contemplate Hermione's seemingly unintentional actions though; sounds of movement on the porch broke the silence and the unintended ambiance. The battered teens watched as Fleur directed Dean, carrying the goblin, clutching the fateful sword, up a flight of stairs with Luna following behind him before Fleur entered the den.

Unease lined her beautiful face as she chose her words carefully, "'Arry is fine. Ze goblin will be fine as well wiz some healing. . . . Ze elf, Dobby . . . 'e is not. 'E did not survive."

"What do you mean he didn't survive?! He was alive when we left," Ron said, desperately trying to "reason" Dobby back-to-life.

"We found ze elf dead in 'Arry's arms . . . zere was . . . a knife protruding from 'is chest."

Silence descended on them for a moment until Bill entered the room. The same look of unease laid thick on his countenance. "They know?" he asked Fleur softly. She nodded sadly. "Harry is digging the grave for the elf in the garden by hand as we speak," he paused, uncertainty shadowing his face. "What happened tonight?"

Ron looked down, feeling his brother's stare, and tried to form a response without telling him too much. "Snatchers . . . and Malfoy Manor. That's all I can tell you, I'm sorry," he said with sincerity.

Bill nodded and stood. "I need to warn the others and set up the charm here," he said more to himself than the others. "Will you be able to handle everything here?" he said to Fleur. Upon her nod, Bill quickly kissed her goodbye and strode toward the door. As he exited the room, he paused and turned, "It's good to know you three are okay . . . you lot had us bloody worried." He turned and left.

"Will ze two of you be fine down here? Will either of you need help wiz healing?" Fleur asked more to Ron than Hermione. Ron opened Hermione's bag and summoned a small bottle and showed it to Fleur. She gave an approving nod and stood. "If you need anyzing, I will be upstairs tending to ze gentleman and ze goblin." She left, leaving Ron and Hermione in a stunned silence.

"You probably want me to get started, right?" Ron said after a bit.

Hermione didn't seem to hear him, confusion and despair were etched into her pale face. "I don't understand . . . why was Dobby at Malfoy Manor? He didn't belong to them anymore. . . . He shouldn't have been there," her voice shook with suppressed emotions and unshed tears of grief.

Ron sat on the sofa next to Hermione and began to clean her wounds. "I'm not sure exactly why Dobby showed up when he did," he gently turned her face towards his and continued his work, "but I do know that if he hadn't when he did, we'd all probably be dead . . . or worse." He told her of how they escaped their prison, of Wormtail's death, and of how Dobby saved them a second time during their fight to escape the stately manor. Tears flowed down her checks, salt from her tears stinging her open flesh; she was silent and unflinching during the sad tale.

Ron had finished cleaning the majority of her wounds by the end of his narration and began applying essence of dittany to her hands and forearms. They fell into a contemplative silence. He tried to focus on her cold hands rather than the crushing grief of Dobby's death or the lingering fear he'd felt when he thought he'd lost her. _She's alive, she'll be okay. _Ron's thoughts were interrupted by Hermione's yelp of pain.

"Bloody h - I'm so sorry . . . are you okay?" Ron asked, mentally kicking himself violently.

"It's okay, Ron," she said while gingerly feeling the laceration on her neck he'd just tried to heal. "This is from the knife, right?" Ron nodded. "The blade could have been cursed . . . probably with something that delays natural healing and prevents magical healing . . . something to prolong pain and suffering . . . without being fatal," she reasoned quietly. "I think I might be able to heal it . . . the text I have gives generic instruction on how to heal something like this . . . I'll have to look it up in the morning."

Ron watched silently as Hermione's brow crinkled in concentration. Even after everything she'd been through, she was still the girl he'd count on for help with homework, the same girl he'd sneak glances at when she wasn't looking, the same girl he'd grown to love.

He was so overcome with sudden affection for his clever friend that he nearly acted on his urge to pull her into a mind-numbingly passionate kiss and express his undying love for her. _Not only would she probably slap me, she'd also probably yell at me for braking her concentration_. Instead he settled for healing the cuts on her face as a guise for resuming physical contact. Hermione was so lost in thought, she jumped slightly at Ron's touch.

"Sorry," he said quietly.

"No, it's fine . . . I was just lost in my thoughts I suppose."

"Because that's never happened before," Ron added sarcastically under his breath.

"Hey! I heard that," she said in a pseudo-angry voice.

"What? Are you saying you disagree?" he said cheekily. Hermione didn't answer, but wore a small smile in acknowledgment of defeat.

They drifted into a light silence as Ron continued healing her wounds. With the passing of each minute, it became increasingly apparent that Hermione was fighting a losing battle with exhaustion. Her eyes were half closed and she seemed to be sinking farther into the sofa as if her body was slowly becoming boneless.

Ron was reluctant to wake her from her light doze when he finished healing all the cuts on her face save the lone cut splitting her bottom lip. Ron brushed a stray lock behind her ear and gently rubbed her cheek with his thumb, willing her slowly back to consciousness.

"_Ron_," she breathed softly.

Ron froze as if he'd been hit by a Stunner, _Did she just say my name?_ She was still hovering just below consciousness, completely unaware of anything around her. He continued to stroke her face, eliciting a soft sigh from Hermione. _Maybe I'm reading too much into this. . . . Was that longing in her voice? . . . No, couldn't be . . . _that _was probably the last thing on her mind . . . we have much more important things to worry about, after all. . . . _He removed his hand and nearly laughed when he saw her brow crease lightly with disappointment. He placed his hand gently on her shoulder and shook it, "'Mione, wake up."

She grimaced slightly as she woke, but smiled when she saw Ron. "I must have had a bit of a kip, I guess," she said with a yawn.

He smiled and said nervously, "The cut on your lip . . . will this stuff work on it?"

She studied the dittany for a moment, "I don't see why it wouldn't, it's not like anything needs to be grown back."

Her words did nothing to quail his nervousness, "Good. . . . Just wanted to make sure." He turned her face gently towards his and watched her swallow nervously; even in her tired state, she was still able to catch onto why Ron was so nervous himself. He let out a small laugh when she bit her wounded lip out of habit and flinched. "You should really wait until after I heal it to do that, you know."

"I suppose you're right," she said smiling, most of the nervousness gone from her face.

"Let the record show," he said while scooping out a bit of dittany, "that Hermione Granger just admitted that I, Ronald Weasley, am right."

"Git," she said unable to hold back her smile.

Ron slipped a hand under her chin while the other hovered over her lips. "Most people would tell you it's not a good idea to insult your healer," he said softly before lowering his two dittany-covered fingers to her bottom lip.

She inhaled slightly at the contact and closed her eyes. Ron let his fingers linger a bit longer than necessary before removing them and brushing his thumb slowly along her lip to remove the excess dittany. She took a shaky breath and opened her eyes.

The emotions playing across her face were numerous, longing and trepidation being the most apparent. As she licked her lips, Ron remembered his hand still under her chin.

In that moment, the rest of the world ceased to exist outside of the cozy den; the death of Dobby, the horrors they experienced at Malfoy Manor, the war, all of it disappeared. They all had been living day-by-day, constantly hoping that tomorrow would hold better days; Ron was sick of it. Why not make today better rather than wait for tomorrow?

The moment they started to move, Ron felt Hermione's hand slip behind his neck and gently urged him toward her while he brought his hands to either side of her face. Ron felt his heart rate race and his breaths come shorter as he neared Hermione, knowing she was feeling much the same. They were so close, he could feel her breath on his anxious lips . . .

"Oh!" was heard from the other end of the room; the two froze, not more than a centimeter between them. Hermione gave a soft, defeated sigh and slipped her hand from Ron's neck as Ron removed his hands from her face. Ron turned to see Fleur, Luna, and Dean standing in the doorway.

"My apologizes for interrupting," Fleur said holding back a smile. "I've come down to check on ze two of you." They walked into the room; Luna and Dean taking seats on chairs opposite the sofa while Fleur stood in front of two embarrassed teens and studied them both. "You are looking much better. 'Ow do you feel?," she said to Hermione.

"Better . . . sore and tired, but better," Hermione said.

"I might 'ave somezing for ze pain, but rest and a few good meals will do you more good zan any potion," Fleur said before leaving the room to retrieve said potion.

"Harry is taking the death of the house elf very hard." Luna's voice sounded like a gun shot in the silent room.

Ron felt his stomach clench uncomfortably; of course Dobby's death would be hardest on Harry. And yet, he was outside, in the cold, digging the grave alone; that just wasn't right.

"Dobby idealized Harry," Hermione said with a watery smile, "like Harry was the epitome of righteousness . . . which makes sense, Harry was the one who tricked Lucius Malfoy into freeing Dobby. Harry was the reason Dobby was able to escape those wretched people. . . . It's kind of ironic, isn't it? Dobby gave his life to do the same for Harry. I - It's just . . . " Ron pulled her into his arms and let her sob quietly into her chest.

"We should have a funeral for Dobby, since none of us were able to thank him or wish him farewell properly," Luna said.

Dean spoke up, "I was thinking about helping Harry dig the grave . . . there's not much else I can do here to help."

"I was thinking about doing the same thing," Ron said quietly.

"Harry shouldn't have to do this alone." Hermione's voice soft, but clear. It was then that Fleur reappeared.

"'Ere you are," she said, handing a small vile to Hermione. "I'm afraid zis is all we 'ave."

"Thank you." Her face instantly relaxed as she finished the potion.

"Ma'am, do you have any spare spades? Ron and I would like to help Harry," Dean said with a look of determination.

"Zere might be a few more in ze broom shed. Do you remember where it is?" she asked Ron.

"Yeah, I remember." With that, Dean and Ron stood. Ron hesitated for moment before placing a quick kiss on Hermione's cheek and began walking to the door.

"Ron." Ron stopped and turned.

"You should really let Fleur heal your nose first," Hermione said.

With a sigh of compliance, Ron let Fleur heal his nose and clean his face of dried blood. "Thanks, Fleur . . . for everything."

Fleur gave him a soft smile and a nod before leaving the room muttering something about starting some tea. Ron and Hermione shared one last silent look, speaking more in that small gesture than words ever could, before Ron joined Dean and left to help Harry.

"You should get some rest," Luna told Hermione quietly.

"So should you," Hermione said with a yawn.

"Yes, you're probably right," and with that, Luna curled up in her chair and fell asleep.

Hermione laid back across the length of the sofa and stared up at the ceiling, thinking about the evening's events. _It's amazing how much can change in such a short time._ Yawning one last time, she at last surrendered fully to exhaustion and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

_Thanks for reading and reviews are always appreciated._


	5. Carma's a bitch part I

At nearly a year and a half since the end of the war, the Auror Department, like most of the ministry, was a crowded and chaotic place. Many new and young faces could be seen running through the halls trying to navigate their ways to their destinations. Nearly a quarter of the new faces were on loan from neighboring countries trying to help the British Ministry back on its feet after losing nearly half of its staff to the war or to Azkaban.

The office of Auror Potter was just as chaotic as the rest of the ministry. The walls were lined with shelves covered in books and loose paper; his desk was hidden by numerous files and reports on former Death Eaters and their last known whereabouts. And yet, even through the mess, he could locate any report or text at a moment's notice without the aid of magic. It was in Auror Potter's office that Auror Weasley paced waiting for his friend to arrive that morning.

Ron had been pacing for nearly ten minutes, his brain working abnormally fast for that time of the morning. He was at a loss. The sound of the office door opening halted Ron in his tracks both physically and mentally.

Harry Potter looked much the same as he did at the end of the war, except that he had gained back the weight he'd lost and had grown another inch or so. To say that Harry was surprised to see his friend so early was a bit of an understatement; whereas Harry usually arrived ten minutes early to read the Prophet and enjoy a cup of coffee, Ron usually strolled in a minute before the day officially began. "Hey, what are you doing here so early? I thought you finished that report for Torres yesterday."

"I did. . . . I just . . . I need your help with something, Harry," Ron sputtered out.

"Yeah, sure. What can I do for you, mate?" Harry said as he began getting settled for the day.

"It's just . . . I can't," Ron groaned in frustration. "How's Ginny doing?" he finished in an air of defeat.

"Uh, she's doing great as far as I know. I just got a letter from her last night . . . said training camp is a blast," Harry looked at his friend suspiciously. "What's going on, Ron?"

Ron turned around and began pacing again. "It's Hermione. I'm worried about her; she's . . . it's like third year all over again, Harry! She's working herself to death. I've tried to talk to her about it, but she says she's fine and to stop worrying. I've had George try talking to her about cutting back on time at the store, but she pointed out that the store is still understaffed and said that she could handle the extra work." Ron went silent for a moment. "The only time I get to see her these days is at the store when we're working together! I can't even remember the last time we had lunch together." Ron collapsed into the chair in front of Harry's desk. "I know we agreed to, uh - stay out of each other's _personal lives_, but I need your help, mate. I can't get through to her."

Harry sat back in his chair and contemplated the situation. He had noticed a change in Hermione; she had missed the last two Weasley family dinners for starters. She hadn't stopped in to say "hi" in over week. Now that he thought about it, Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd talked to her other than just a quick "hey" whenever they saw each other in the ministry. "I'll see what I can do."

The walk from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Beasts was a long and winding one. Two floors down and half way across the ministry later Harry stood outside the main office of the department. A year and a half after the war and he was still getting stopped in the halls to shake someone's hand or meet a foreign dignitary, which was why he rarely wondered the halls of the ministry on social calls. Today was no exception; he'd been stopped twice already.

The office was tiny, barely enough room for the three people that worked in there. "Can I help you, Sir?" one of them asked.

"I'm looking for Hermione Granger . . . I was hoping to have word with her," Harry said, wondering how long it would take for one of them to recognize him.

The man eyed Harry suspiciously, "Are you a reporter?"

"No."

"Are you here to register a complaint about a particular bill recently passed by this department?"

"No."

"Are you here-"

"No! I'm here to inquire whether Miss Granger has time to have lunch with an old friend or if I'm going to have to come back another time," Harry said as calmly as possible.

The man visibly relaxed. "My apologies, Sir. It's just that the last gentleman who came to have a _word_ with Miss Granger ended up drawing his wand on her. Can't be too careful."

Harry stood stunned for a moment as the man got up out of his chair. "What do you mean he drew his wand on her? Why wasn't Auror Headquarters informed about this?!"

"We were about to, but she disarmed him and had him against a wall in a blink of an eye. Told him if he ever tried a stunt like that again he'd be leaving with more than just sore ego. Said there wasn't a point in informing the Aurors; the situation was handled," he said while leading Harry down a hallway. "That was almost two weeks ago now."

Harry walked in stunned silence. Two weeks ago and she hadn't mentioned it to him; had she even told Ron?

They entered a slightly larger, but equally cramped, room. About half a dozen desks and several bookcases crowded the room; Hermione was at the opposite end with another woman discussing something on the desk in front of them.

Both women, like Harry, had discarded their official robes and were dressed in what muggles would call _business casual_. Hermione's focus didn't wavered from the discussion at hand, until the other woman spoke up in a teasing voice, "My goodness, the great Harry Potter. To what do we the pleasure?"

Hermione's head snapped up from the parchment in front of her. "Oh! Hello, Harry. What brings you down here?" Though her smile was slightly strained, she did seem happy to see him.

"I was hoping I'd be able to drag you away from your work long enough to have lunch with me . . . unless you don't have time for one of your best friends in the whole world," he added in a child-like pleading voice.

"Oh, go on 'Mi. Who could resist that?" the other woman said.

"I could. And we're in the middle of the-" Hermione started to say.

"It'll still be here when you get back, I promise. Besides, when was the last time you didn't work through lunch?"

Hermione thought for moment and then sighed in defeat. "Fine, I'll be back in an hour."

Harry smiled and said to the other woman after Hermione left to get her purse from another desk, "You are a god-send; I don't think I caught your name-"

"Okay let's go," Hermione said before the other woman had a chance to answer. Harry gave a quick wave to the woman and followed Hermione out of the cramped room

"Well that was a bit rude don't you think?" Harry said after they exited the main office.

"Yes, but we're always doing that to each other . . . it took a while to get used to actually. That was Jean McGrath by the way."

"Good to know, now when _was_ the last time you took a lunch break?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. "I don't know. . . . It's not like I don't eat, I just work and eat at the same time is all."

Harry didn't comment. He knew if he wanted any chance at getting through to her he'd have to stop putting her in a defensive position. Auror training was definitely going to come in handy today.

They talked little on their way to the Atrium. The halls were crowded which made things easier for Harry; he could simply pretend not to hear random people shout his name. They were only stopped once by an elderly gentleman who latched himself onto Harry's arm and shook his hand so tightly that Harry was sure something in his hand broke. They were about to bid the man farewell when he recognized Hermione as well and asked her why she didn't join the Aurors with Harry and "the Weasley boy."

"It's just not something I wanted to make a career out of. I've had enough fighting for a lifetime," she told him.

"I'm sure, Missy. . . . Couldn't handle the pressure, could you?" he said with an air of superiority. Harry was taken aback; the gentleman had been quite civil him. Why the change in attitude?

Hermione, for her part, remained calm. "Though it is a very stressful occupation, that's not why I chose not to be an Auror. Just because someone fought in the war doesn't necessarily mean he or she should automatically join the Aurors-"

"You have something against Aurors, Missy?" the man asked aggressively while placing a hand into a pocket of his robes.

Harry's hand also went to his pocket; Hermione, however, did not flinch and remained calm. "Sir, my two best friends are Aurors; I respect their decision and they respect-"

"If you _respected_ their decision, then you'd be right there with-"

"Sir!" Harry interrupted, "I'm going to have ask you calm down. I'm fine with Hermione working for the R.C.M.B., in fact I couldn't be prouder of her. While Ron and I are out fighting to keep everyone safe, she's out there fighting for those who can't fight for themselves, for those who don't have a voice in the ministry. Now if you don't mind, we need to get going."

The man glared at Hermione one last time and mumbled a "Good day, Mr. Potter" and merged back into the crowd of people. Hermione's eyes remained trained on his retreating form until he disappeared from view. Harry placed a hand on her shoulder, "Let's get going."

The remainder of their journey was made in silence. They Apparated to Diagon Alley and headed to the Leaky Caldron and found a secluded booth. Tom hobbled over and flashed them a toothless smile, "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, good to see yuh. What can I start yuh off with today?"

"Butterbeer for me. What are you having-"

"Just water today, Tom. Thanks," Hermione said. Harry was a bit surprised; after the verbal beating she'd just taken, he wouldn't have blamed her for having a shot of fire whiskey.

Tom returned quickly and they ordered. Harry fidgeted as he tried to think of a way to start a conversation; he wanted to tell her that the man in the hall had no right to speak to her that way and ask her about the incident two weeks ago, but neither was an objective for this mission. He was supposed to convince her to cut back on work and to stop isolating herself from everyone.

Out of nowhere came Hermione's voice, "Thanks . . . for back there."

"Wha - No . . . that guy had no idea what he was talking about. He was way out of line."

"_Yeah_ . . ." Tom returned with their meals and the two lapsed back into silence.

Harry ate like a starving man; training sessions were brutal. Hermione seemed lost in thought while she picked at her food. "You want to tell me what's on your mind?" Harry asked as he finished his meal.

Hermione surprised him by shaking head, "Not really."

"Are you sure-"

"Yes, Harry, I'm sure," she said softly.

Harry sat for a moment at a loss for words, "Fine, it's no longer a question; tell me what's bothering you."

Hermione glared at Harry, "Or what, Mr. Potter? Are you going to force it out of me?"

Harry recognized her mood immediately; she needed to let off some steam and an argument was and probably always would be her favorite option. He cast a quick _Mufflindo_ before saying, "If it comes to that. . . . 'Mione, come on, talk to me! I know something's bothering you and it's not just that idiot we met on the way here," he said, effectively cutting off her retort off. "You've stopped coming over to the Weasleys' for dinner, you've stopped meeting Ron and me for lunch, you've been working non-stop. . . . Oh - And what's this I hear about a guy trying to hex you in your office two weeks ago?"

By look on Hermione's face, Harry knew he'd gone too far. Any sane man would have been running for cover or at least have been trying to apologize, but Harry was doing neither. He was worried about his friend and was willing to endure anything she threw at him. He met her glare, waiting for her to respond.

Hermione held his stare for nearly a minute before sighing tiredly and looking down at her plate. "You want to know? Fine. I messed up, Harry," she said after a while, "I didn't do what I was supposed to do."

Harry tried to decipher her cryptic words, "You're going to have to explain."

She looked up from her plate. Gone was the stoic mask of indifference she'd been wearing all day; she looked exhausted and ashamed. "I was part of the 'Golden Trio', we were _supposed_ to stick together. I was _supposed_ to follow you and Ron into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I mean, look at us. We were able to take on an army of merciless bastards bent on exterminating muggles and muggle-borns before we even finished school," she paused for a moment. "Instead of doing the _right thing_, I left the trio and finished school, and as if to add insult to injury, I joined the R.C.M.B. instead of the Aurors."

"Hermione, that's not-" Hermione silenced him with a look.

"I love my job," she said quietly, "I'm actively making life better for magical creatures and I love it. But not a week goes by that someone doesn't need to know why I work where I do and not with you, Ron, and Neville . . . and when I tell them why, they look at me as if I'm either insane or an idiot. I'm a _Griffindor_; I fought in the bloody war for god sakes! I'm supposed to be out fighting the bad guys on a daily basis, not sitting at a desk amending out of date laws. . . . None of them ever believe me when I tell them that I _chose_ not to be an Auror; they all assume that I couldn't handle it or that I was kicked out, that I'm not good enough - strong enough to do the job. It's like I let the wizarding world down by doing what I thought was right, what I _know_ is right. . . . It's like nothing I do is good enough for anyone anymore," she finished in a whisper.

Harry sat there stunned. He had no idea she was going through any of this; he assumed she was treated with the same respect he, Ron , and even Neville were given. Anger surged through his veins; he wanted to find the arses that had the nerve to belittle his friend and vowed to _help_ them see the error in their logic. Hermione had always been there for him when the world turned its back on him and it hurt to know that she felt she had to go through something like this alone.

Harry took her hands in his and waited until she met his eyes, "Regardless of what everyone else thinks or says," he said gesturing to the other patrons, "you have _never _let me down." Hermione dropped her gaze to their hands as tears began to run down her face. "I meant every word I said to that guy back there. You're doing what you've wanted - hell, what you've _needed_ to do since you met Dobby and Buckbeak and I couldn't be happier for you. . . . And I think I can speak for the Weasleys when I say that we're all proud of you. You've jumpstarted your department and accomplished so much already." He paused for a moment, "I _know _I can speak for Ron especially when I say we all love you and just want you to be happy."

By then Hermione was beginning to breakdown, so Harry moved from across the table to beside her on the bench seat and held her as she cried. "Those people who think you've done something wrong because you're not an Auror don't know you, they haven't laughed with you, haven't cried with you, haven't had the pleasure of fighting by your side. Everyone who knows you, who _really_ knows you, couldn't be prouder."

It didn't take Hermione long to calm down enough to extract herself from Harry and mumble a soft "Thanks" to him. Harry signaled Tom over while Hermione fixed her make-up with a quick charm.

"Two chocolate ice-creams, Tom."

Hermione looked over at Harry and said with a small smile, "Hungry?"

"I figured you'd eat one of them . . . or if you wanted both-"

"I didn't really want dessert, Harry."

"That's alright," Harry said with a smile. "It's not about what you want; it's about what you _need_."

Hermione rolled her eyes and said as Tom returned with the ice-creams, "So you're suddenly an expert on knowing what _I_ need?"

"No, I think Ron has me beat there," Harry said before biting into his dessert. "But I do believe Ginny said it best when she said 'Chocolate makes everything better'."

Hermione smiled, "Too true." They ate in comfortable silence for a while.

"So can I expect to see you at Sunday dinner?" Harry asked tentatively.

Hermione paused mid-bite. "Yeah . . . I'll be there," she said with a hesitant smile.

"And you'll cut back on hours at the shop?"

Hermione eyed him suspiciously, "Ron sent, you didn't he?"

"He might have, but come on, he's got a point," Harry said with an air of desperation.

Hermione contemplated Harry for a moment, "Like Ron should talk; he works at the shop twice as much as I do. And with the new store just opening, he and George need all of the help they can get."

"That's true, but you already have one full-time job that you frequently put in overtime at, I don't think you need another one on top of that," Harry said in a matter-of-factly tone.

"What'll happen if I cut back? George has been trying to hire workers for the new store for weeks, but none last more than a few days. Not many people can handle or figure out George's system," Hermione reasoned.

"George may have to change some of his ways if he wants to keep Wheezes going; even Lee has issues with some of George's store practices," Harry said before finishing his ice-cream. "I'll talk to George about it tonight when I work your shift."

Hermione was on the verge of nodding when she caught the last bit of Harry's sentence, "What do you mean _when I work your shift_?"

Harry cringed, he thought he'd slipped that one by her. "I mean that if I'm going to talk to George about something like this I'd better have a good excuse to be there so George can't just kick me out. I figured filling in for you would be a good enough excuse," Harry said with a desperate smile.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine, but just this once," she said with an air of finality.

Harry smiled and looked at his watch; his smile melted instantly. "We should probably get going."

Hermione grabbed Harry's wrist and check the time. "Oh my, well, we're only fifteen minutes late."

Harry gave a humorless laugh, "Torres isn't very forgiving."

"What will she make you do?" Hermione asked as Harry dropped a few gallons on the table.

"Oh, I don't know. Probably an extra training session," Harry said.

"I'll come with you and see if I can't help you out. It's my fault we're late."

Harry gave a weak smile, "I don't think it'll do much good, but if you want to try . . ." They made their way quickly outside and Apparated back to the ministry. They paused outside of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, nervousness visible Harry's face.

"Is she really that intense?" Hermione asked.

"You have no idea." They made it about seven steps.

"Potter!" They turned and watched Torres walk slowly up to them. Though Hermione had heard a lot about her from Harry and Ron, she had never met their trainer. She was of average build, thin yet toned. What surprised Hermione most was how stunningly beautiful the woman was, tan skinned and dark brown hair, not much older than herself. This was the infamous Carmelita "Carma" Torres?

"Lunch ended twenty-one minutes ago Potter; I hope the meal was good going down because you'll be tasting it coming up when I'm done with you," Torres said with an air of boredom.

"Yes, Ma'am," Harry said, back straight, at attention.

"I'll tell you what, since you're a first time offender I'll let you chose, tonight or tomorrow morning?" Torres said with a grin.

Hermione spoke up before Harry could answer. "Excuse me, it's not Harry's fault he late, it's mine," Hermione said in an unsure voice; it was as if Torres oozed intimidation.

Torres looked over at Hermione. "And you are?" she asked impatiently.

"H-Hermione Granger, Ma'am," Hermione answered while offering her hand.

Torres sized Hermione up, but didn't shake her hand. "Nice to meet you," she said in a flat voice, "that doesn't change the fact that Potter was late. He knows the rules."

Hermione bit her lip as her mind kicked into overdrive. "It doesn't seem right to make Harry pay for something that was my fault."

Torres gave an exaggerated eye roll and turned back to Harry. "What's it going to be, Potter?"

"What if I took Harry's place?" Hermione said with more confidence than she felt.

Both Harry and Torres looked over at Hermione with surprise. "You want to take Potter's place? You think you can handle what I'm going to dish out? This isn't your yoga class, chica. You wouldn't last ten minutes," Torres said in a condescending tone.

"I'd like to give it a try."

"There's no _try_, there's only do or do not."

Hermione nearly burst out laughing at the muggle movie reference. "I _do_ have what it takes," she said seriously.

Torres reevaluated Hermione. "You've got guts, Granger." She turned to Harry, "Congratulations, Potter. You're off the hook this time." She turned back to Hermione, "Tonight, quarter after five, don't be late." Torres turned and walked away.

Harry stared at Hermione in disbelief. "Are you _insane_?! I would have been fine with taking the heat for this."

Hermione shook her head. "But I wouldn't have been fine with it. I'll see later, okay?"

"Hermione, wait! You don't have to do this -"

"Yes, I do. I've got to get going. . . . I'm late too, you know." With that she turned and headed towards the lifts.

_Ron's going to kill me_, Harry thought painfully.


	6. Carma's a bitch part II

By the time five rolled around, the dread in the pit of Hermione's stomach had grown to almost unbearable intensity. After bidding her coworkers goodbye and leaving earlier than she had in more than two months, Hermione made the long trek back to the D.M.L.E. No one stopped her in the hall; it was as if she was walking to her death, to be put in front of a firing squad. _I've faced some of the most evil men and women in existence and I'm terrified of a woman who has no intention of ending my life. . . . There is definitely something wrong with this picture. What's she going to make me do? . . . run a few kilometers, maybe some drills. Get a grip! Ron and Harry go through this three times a week . . . I can handle this._

The lifts were crowded and noisy with coworkers exchanging plans for the night, effectively distracting Hermione from her final destination. As she squeezed herself from the back of the lift to the front and into the hallway, she noticed Ron and Torres conversing outside the main office.

"-she doesn't know what she's getting into. Can't I-" Ron tried to plead.

"Hey, don't complain to _me _about this, Weasley. She's a big girl. She can make her own choices," Torres said.

"I agree," Hermione said as she neared the two Aurors. Both looked over, Torres with a condescending smile, Ron with a look of helplessness.

"You're early, good. There's a change of cloths for you in the locker room. Let's get started," Torres said enthusiastically. Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Torres cut him off, "I'll see you _tomorrow_, Weasley."

"Yes, Ma'am," Ron answered in the same way Harry had earlier that day.

Hermione whispered a quick goodbye before following Torres into the office, leaving Ron standing in the hall unsure of the whole situation.

***

To Hermione's surprise, Torres had left her the standard issue sweats Auror trainees wore. Hermione was half expecting a ragged old set of training gear to brand her as an outsider.

Torres was waiting for her, rather impatiently, on the infield of the large running track. "You have ten minutes to warm up, don't expect to get out of this by pulling a muscle or twisting an ankle. Get going."

Hermione took off around the track, judging by the size, she estimated it to be about five hundred meters long. One lap and a bit of stretching later, Hermione felt as loose as a tightly coiled spring.

***

Neville poked his head into Ron's office. "What are you still doing here? Even Harry's already left."

Ron looked up from the file in front of him. "Just looking over the Dolohov file, making sure the prosecution hasn't missed anything."

"They're finishing the closing arguments tomorrow right? The trial's been going on for about a month now right?"

"About three weeks actually, he's sure to be convicted, but . . . I've got to make sure, you know? That bastard killed Remus and nearly killed 'Mione in the Department of Mysteries during our fifth year. I can't . . . he has to be put away."

Neville walked in and sat in the chair in front of Ron's desk. "I know, mate. Harry and I watched him hex Hermione. . . . We were both so bloody scared that she was . . . one minute she was silencing him, the next she was on the floor barely breathing. I don't think I'll ever forget the look on Harry's face when I told him I found her pulse." Neville paused, "She's with Torres right now, isn't she?"

Ron gave a dull laugh, "Yes she is. I don't know what's up with her lately. . . . She's been avoiding me and Harry for weeks. . . ." Ron said. "You don't think she's thinking of . . . I don't know . . . breaking up with me, do you?"

Neville burst out laughing, "You're kidding right? This is _Hermione_ we're talking about. Everyone but you knew she's had a thing for you since _at least _fifth year. You two survived a war together. Why would she toss you to the curb just when things have finally calmed down?"

"I don't know. I just don't understand her sometimes. Whatever's bothering her has to be major judging by the way she's been acting. . . . And now she's with Torres on top of whatever she's dealing with. . . . And you know how much Torres hates anyone who isn't an Auror!"

Neville laughed softly, "Yeah, she's definitely got something against bureaucrats and _desk-jockeys_ as she puts it, but I wouldn't call Hermione either . . . definitely not a desk-jockey. . . . She's seen about as much action as we have."

"Torres won't see it that way . . . Hermione gets enough shit about working for the R.C.M.B. I don't think she needs Torres going after her about it, too," Ron said tiredly.

"True, but Hermione's a tough bird. I personally think Torres has bitten off more than she can chew with the _most brilliant witch of her age_," Neville said with a smile. "I would love to see those two duel. . . . Can you imagine?"

Ron relaxed in his chair and smiled. "Hermione would definitely give Torres one hell of a fight. You know, I think you're right Neville. I guess I've just been so bloody worried about her lately."

***

_What the_ hell _have I gotten myself into._ Hermione was nearly doubled over in pain as she jogged a cool down lap after what Torres called the five kilometer _warm-up_. That was by far the fastest Hermione had ever run that distance.

"Let's pick it up a bit, Jockey! That was only the warm-up. We've still got _tons_ to do," Torres said condescendingly.

_Bloody hell._

***

Ron and Neville made their way to the training room, both unsure about what condition they'd find their friend in. They entered just as Torres was assembling the obstacle course.

***

_Okay, that was impressive, _Hermione thought as the obstacle course began constructing itself with a wave of Torres' wand. _But I don't like the look of it. _It was taking up the entire infield.

"This beautiful work of art represents the many possible types of obstacles an Auror may face during a pursuit. From the overgrown forest to the decrepit and crumbing building, it's all here."

Hermione didn't expect the memory to hit her so hard; she was thrown back a year and a half to the war, to a ravaged Hogwarts.

"Granger!" Hermione was instantly jerked back to the present. "Is this too _intimidating_ for you? Should we call it a night?" Torres asked sarcastically.

"No, Ma'am," Hermione panted. Her body was visibly shaking and her limbs felt like jelly, _This isn't going to end well._

"Your goal is to keep up with the phantom fugitive." Torres pointed out the ghost-like figure by the start of the course. "Don't bother trying to hex him. You can however use your wand to assist you through the various obstacles. Don't let him get away. To the line, Jockey."

Hermione drew her wand from the holster around her wrist and stood behind the phantom.

***

"You don't think Torres is going to have Hermione do the whole course in one go, do you?" Neville asked Ron.

"I wouldn't be surprised if she did," Ron said darkly.

***

The moment Hermione crossed the line, the world around her changed. Gone were the wooden platforms and hurtles, in their place was a vacant alley between two rundown apartment buildings. She almost missed the phantom duck into an open door half way down the dark alley. The air around her was damp and cold with a hint of something rotting as Hermione sprinted toward the still open door. Her heart felt as though it was trying to beat its way out of her chest as she climbed a rickety flight of stairs. She caught a glimpse of the phantom crawling out a window in one of the side rooms and followed him onto a fire escape. _He's fast, I'll give him that. Damn it!_ She slipped on the wet steel and nearly broke her wrist in the process. Hermione reached the roof in time to watch the fugitive vault over the side of the building. She took a long jumper's leap over the edge and watched the ground quickly come up to meet her. She cast a cushioning charm less than two meters from the street and followed the phantom's opaque form into a seemingly impenetrable forest.

Five minutes later Hermione found herself running down a dirt road. She was freezing, her chest and lungs burning from the cold and exhaustion. After tripping over several roots and fallen logs and a persistent bogart, Hermione was thrilled to see the end of the forest. The road led to a towering manor that looked suspiciously like . . . _Malfoy Manor, bloody hell._

Hermione watched as phantom dogs rounded the side of the building towards her, forcing her to speed up to an all-out sprint to reach the door before they reached her. Door tightly closed behind her, she followed the fugitive into a room to the right, right into a drawing room. Another memory, another wave of panic; she followed the phantom from the room without a second look back. Hermione followed him up another flight of stairs, careful to skip the same steps he did. She followed him through a maze of rooms and over many overturned pieces of furniture until he veered off down another flight of stairs and outside through another open door. Hermione expected to be running across an open field on to the next environment, not seeing Torres standing on the track waiting for her. She was so surprised that she forgot that the track was a step down from the exit of the manor, causing her to stumble and crash painfully to the ground at Torres' feet.

Hermione rolled on to her back but didn't make any attempt to get up; her lungs ached more than her newly scraped knees and hands. From somewhere far away Hermione heard Torres' voice, then felt someone grab her right wrist and pull her into a sitting position. In front of her Torres squatted; Hermione saw Torres' lips moving but heard no sound but the rapid beating of her own heart. Torres shook her head and moved beside Hermione and pulled Hermione to her feet. As the dizziness subsided, Hermione began to hear again.

"-wasn't too bad for your first time, Jockey. I thought you were going to lose him after the first seven minutes." Torres was still supporting Hermione while forcing the exhausted women to keep moving. "Can you hear me yet, Granger?"

Hermione nodded her head but regretted it instantly.

"How's your head?" Upon getting only a grimace as a response, Torres placed the tip of her wand on the side of Granger's head and muttered a healing charm.

"Thanks," Hermione panted, standing up straighter.

"I want you to do a short cool down. We have one more bit left so stay loose," Torres said after letting Granger stand on her own.

***

Ron and Neville sat stunned for nearly a minute after Hermione exited the course. "She made it through the whole thing on her first try," Neville said in awe. "It took me _three_ to do that."

"Took me two . . . bloody hell. She just kicked our arses without meaning to. Harry isn't going to believe this," Ron said while watching Hermione begin to jog around the track.

"Do you think Hermione will opt for the run or the duel?" Neville asked.

Ron smiled and raised an eyebrow.

***

"What's it going to be, Jockey?" Torres asked.

Listening to her tired body, Hermione opted for the duel.

"There are only two rules: stay on the infield and no unforgivable curses. We start on my say. Get on your side."

Hermione walked slowly, trying to decide the best course of action. _Should I just let her beat me right away or should I try to last as long as I can? She's not going to let me out of this easy that's for certain. _Hermione drew her wand and waited for Torres' signal.

"On my whistle. . . . Ready?" Torres raised the whistle to her lips and blew a short blast of air through the small metal instrument.

Hermione waited on her toes, ready to dive aside, but no stunner came. Torres was waiting for her, smiling. Anger and rage flowed through Hermione, _That woman has put me through hell and she's waiting for me to throw the first curse?!_ Hermione narrowed her eyes and threw a simple stunner at Torres trying to cause a reaction, but Torres merely countered it and waited for the next spell. _She's trying to analyze my style. Fine with me._

Hermione threw several more easy spells Torres' way, some slightly off target_. _After about two minutes, Torres began firing back equally simple spells. _Come on! Just put me out of my misery_ _already._ But Hermione kept her spells simple and easy, waiting for Torres to take control of the duel.

_She's patient, _Torres thought, _but this is going to last forever at this rate. _Torres began firing more complex spells, hoping that Granger would at least try to be a bit more competitive.

Hermione's body was begging for rest, but her mind was begging for a challenge. _That's it? Fine, we'll play it your way._ Hermione stopped blocking spells, but sidestepped them instead while increasing the speed of the duel by sending faster and more complex spells.

Torres smiled and mirrored the younger woman.

Anger was the only thing left fueling Hermione's weary body. Her goal was no longer just surviving, but to beat Torres at her own game. Hermione was using Ron's style of dueling to throw the Auror off and she was taking the bate.

By the sixth minute of the duel, both women were in constant motion, neither were wasting time blocking spells. Torres' smile never flinching, _If this is the best she's got, I've been grossly misinformed._ Torres' smile did wavered however when Granger began to incorporate hexes in with her stunners, _She's been playing me the whole time. I should have known better than to try to read her so early._ Torres switched immediately to her own style.

Hermione was ready and didn't miss a beat. Though she didn't completely convert to her own style, she did increase the difficultly of her spells. _Damn!_ Torres began to alter with the rhythm of the duel and nearly had Hermione's wand. _To hell with this._ Hermione began using her own repertoire of spells.

***

"This is more like it!" Neville said while watching the two women duck and dodge the other's spells.

"'Mione's holding her own for sure," Ron said with a smile. The two women were circling each other in short jerky movements, but never changing the distance between them; both were fighting for dominance.

Though Ron knew Hermione could be a brilliant dueler at times, he knew Torres would win this match. Hermione was exhausted, judging from her deteriorating form, and the fact that Torres was the new Mad-Eye Moody; that and Ron had yet to see anyone beat Torres.

"AH! No, dive for it!" Neville whisper-shouted. Hermione had been thrown off balance by an unexpected hex and was partially disarmed in the process; her wand lay midway between the two witches. Hermione had dived for her wand before Neville could suggest it; Torres had cast a summoning charm half a second later.

To everyone's general astonishment, the wand hardly moved; it jerked in Torres' direction, but froze in mid air. Though equally stunned, Hermione's fingers wrapped themselves firmly around the hilt of her wand as she collided with the ground. Torres' surprise induced hesitation gave Hermione just enough time to throw herself to the side of Torres' late coming hex. As Hermione flew threw the air, she twisted her torso back toward Torres and fired a full body bind at the Auror; both women hit the ground at nearly the same time.

"Bloody. Effing. Hell." Neville's whispered statement said it all.

***

_Oh. My. God. I did not just win this. She's just messing with me. _Hermione lifted her head and saw Torres' unmoving form. _Bloody hell, I did win the duel. _Hermione released the Auror from the bind and began laughing.

Torres sat up slowly, completely speechless. _What just happened?_ She looked over at Granger and saw her laughing . . . or at least that's what Torres assumed she was doing; the younger woman's laugh was punctuated by a sharp wheezy breaths every few seconds and she was clenching her side with a death-grip. "Are you having a laugh at my expense, Granger?"

Hermione, still lying on her back where she landed, shook her head. "No, I - I didn't see . . . that coming," she said while trying to control her breathing.

Torres rolled her eyes, "Neither did I apparently." Torres walked over to Granger and held out her hand.

Hermione contemplated the gesture for a moment, then tightly grabbed Torres' offered hand. The Auror helped the victor to her feet.

"That was . . . impressive. Cool down, we're done here, Jockey," Torres said with approving tone.

***

"She just . . . How did she . . . wow," Neville finally said.

Ron couldn't wipe the smile off his face. Harry would _never_ believe this; he'd have to show Harry the memory.

"Damn, I have to get going, Ron. I'm meeting Hannah in half an hour," Neville said after checking his watch.

"I was about to go down there anyway and have a word with Torres," Ron said as they climbed down the bleachers. "Don't have _too_ much fun, mate," Ron said in a teasing voice.

Neville blushed crimson. "Tell Hermione 'congratulations' from me, okay?" When they reached the bottom, Hermione was stretching on the infield while Torres was scribbling away on a clipboard. Hermione caught sight of Neville as he was leaving and gave him a small wave. Neville gave her a thumbs-up and waved as he left the room.

Ron watched Hermione roll her eyes at Neville's retreating form. She found Ron staring at her and paused. Ron gave Hermione composure-melting smile and triumphantly watched her turn away trying to hide her blush. Hermione graced him with a small smile as she headed towards the locker room. Taking his time, Ron made his way to Torres. "How did she do, Ma'am?"

Torres raised an eyebrow. "I thought I told you to go home, Weasley."

"I was going over some old case files and thought I'd check in and see how Miss Granger was doing." Ron waited patiently for an answer to his question.

Torres stopped her writing and gave him her full attention. "You know that's between me and the trainee. You can ask _her_ after I tell her how she did and _she_ can tell you how she did if she wants to," Torres said with an air of finality.

"Yes, Ma'am," Ron said with a smile. "How are you grading Miss Granger's performance since she only just learned she'd be training tonight four hours in advance?"

Torres gave him an annoyed look. "I'm taking it into account, Mr. Weasley. Is there anything else?"

"No, Ma'am," he replied; Ron didn't feel like pushing his luck tonight. "I'll just wait for Miss Granger by the bleachers then."

"You do that," Torres said shortly.

***

The shower did little to ease Hermione's aching muscles. She could feel her body begin to stiffen as navigated her way back into her work clothes. Torres enter as Hermione was drying her hair.

"How are you feeling, Granger?"

"Hmm - like tomorrow is going to hurt like hell," Hermione said with a tired smile.

"Good, that means I did my job and that Mr. Potter won't need to come in for an extra training session after all."

"He wouldn't have had to anyway . . . I came instead," Hermione said, confused.

"To be honest, I didn't think you make it very long. If you didn't I was going to have Potter come in for half of a training session. . . . Here, I thought you might like to see this before Mr. Weasley," Torres said handing Hermione a sheet of paper from her clipboard.

Hermione finished tying back her hair and read through the evaluation. Hermione's eye brows knitted together. "You put me in the top five percent . . . I'm not sure I understand this completely."

"This form covers physical fitness, problem solving skills assessment, and dueling ability. I assess all trainees when they first arrive for training, every three weeks after that, and as a final evaluation. Compared to other trainees' final assessments, your overall score was in the top five percent. While your physical fitness may have been somewhat lacking, you excelled in problem solving . . . and obviously in dueling," Torres explained tiredly. "With a score like this and your reputation for being some sort of genius, I'd say that you could be a fully credentialed Auror in less than a month."

Torres watched Granger drop down on a nearby bench with look of shock on her face. Torres thought the young veteran would have been expecting to do well; to see the look of pure disbelief on Granger's face was startling. "You seem surprised," Torres stated.

Hermione just shook her head, stuttering, "I . . . I didn't know . . . I . . . a _month_?" A far away look crossed her face. "I could be an Auror in a month," she said in a serious voice.

Torres frowned slightly, "You're not seriously thinking about joining us, are you? I thought you'd had enough after tonight."

Hermione frowned, "I've been through worse."

Torres contemplated the woman before her, "I was under the impression that you were actually doing something constructive down in the R.C.M.B. the way Weasley brags about you. You don't think you're needed or are you just bored and looking for a bit of excitement?"

"If I was _bored_, I'd take a trip to Azkaban and have a chat with Dolohov," Hermione said icily. "I just wonder sometimes if I was supposed to be here. . . . If I should have followed Ron and Harry," she said in a lost voice.

Of all of the stories Torres had heard about the woman in front of her, none mentioned an unsure, self-conscious woman second-guessing herself. Torres sat down next the Granger. "You don't _seem _like the type of person who would be unsure of anything. You _seem_ like the type of person who would be sure of what was right and would do everything in your power to fight for it." Torres sighed tiredly, "I'm sure you of all people know there is more than one way to fight for what is right. . . . And you don't have to be an Auror to do that."

Hermione nodded slowly and stood. "Yeah, I do know," she said in a slightly more confident voice.

Torres stood as well, "It's not that I wouldn't mind having you join us, it's that I think you'd be . . . _happier _where you are? That's not really the word I'm looking for but you understand what I'm getting at right?"

Hermione nodded, "Yeah, I do. Thanks . . . Not many people would have told me to stay with the R.C.M.B. I can't even begin to count how many times I've been told I should have joined the Aurors."

"Sure. . . . Now hurry up so I can lock up for the night," Torres said. That was enough bonding for her.

***

"She'll be out soon, Weasley . . . or at least she'd better be. I'm not in the mood to be here all night," Torres said as she cleared away the last of the equipment.

"How's she doing?" Ron asked sincerely.

Torres frowned. "She seemed fine to me." She put on a suspicious look, "This doesn't have anything to do with why you've been moping around for the past two weeks, does it?"

Torres watched Weasley run a hand through his hair. It was almost odd seeing the young man so serious; he was usually the life and the moral of his unit. There was just something about him that fascinated her.

"Hermione has a tendency to overwork herself sometimes. I'm worried about her that's all," he said defensively.

"Feeling a bit neglected?" Torres teased.

"What . . . Oh! - No! No, it's not that . . . I care about her. I've seen her go through this before. Sometimes she needs to be reminded that she's human," Ron said with burning, red ears.

"I'm sure," Torres said with a smile before turning and extinguishing most of the lights. When Torres turned back, Weasley was walking towards Granger with his signature grin. Torres watched Weasley _charm_ Granger's messenger bag from her shoulder to his as he wrapped an arm around her waist. "Let's go, Weasley. Escort yours and Granger's arses out of here."

"Goodnight to you, too, Ma'am," Ron said as he and Hermione walked by. Hermione gave a small wave and a smile.

Torres rolled her eyes at their retreating figures as she turned off the last of the lights and followed them out.


	7. Carma's a bitch part III

"How are you feeling?" Ron asked as he and Hermione walked into his office.

Hermione just smiled tiredly and shook her head.

"That bad?" Ron said as he put on his coat.

"It's been a long time since I've been this tired or sore," she said with a hint of sadness.

Ron nodded, "I felt the same way after the first week of training." He snatched her bag up again as Hermione reached for it and shouldered his own as well. "It seemed like everything about that first week reminded me of the war." He put his arm around her once again and gave her a one armed squeeze. "I'll tell you what, how about I make you dinner and see what I can do for those sore muscles of yours while you take a well deserved break for the night?"

Hermione meant to say no, that she would be fine, that she had quite a bit of work to do for tomorrow, but it was as if her brain had a mind of its own and simply replied, "Okay."

Ron's face lit up. "Well then, let's get you home and off your feet."

***

They Apparated to the alley behind Hermione's (and Ginny's when she was there) apartment building and many flights of stairs later they were standing in the hallway at her door. Hermione led them in and made to take her bag from Ron after he shut the door behind him. Ron shook his head and placed it on the floor under the coat rack and began undoing her coat. "You need a break, 'Mione," he said as she swatted away his hands and removed her coat.

"I was only going to work until you finished dinner," she said in an annoyed voice as she handed him the coat.

"I'm sure," Ron said as he led her to her own sofa. "Sit, rest, read _Hogwarts: A History_. You're taking it easy tonight, remember? Can I get you something to drink or a snack?'

"I'm fine, Ron. You're already cooking dinner. I can get my own drink," Hermione tried to reason.

Ron shook his head, "Come on, 'Mione. Let me be a gentleman and wait on you for one night."

Hermione sighed and sat down. "Water is fine," she said in defeat.

Ron grinned, "See that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and picked _Hogwarts: A History_ up off of the coffee table.

***

Twenty minutes into cooking, Ron walked out to the sitting room and found Hermione passed out along the length the of the sofa with the enormous tome on her lap. Ron gently eased the book out of Hermione's clutches and back onto the coffee table. Ron began to wonder how many meals she had missed in the last few weeks as he stared down at her sleeping form; she had lost the healthy glow that had taken her so long to regain after the war. He knelt down beside her and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before heading back to the kitchen to finish dinner.

***

Hermione woke to the feeling of Ron's lips on her own with a soft sigh. She loved it when her woke up like that, not that she would specifically tell him that. She returned the kiss and the two of them stayed in that position for nearly a minute.

"Dinner's, ready," Ron said quietly when he finally pulled away.

"It smells wonderful . . . Is it your famous chicken and pasta?" she said with a yawn.

"Very good, Miss Granger. Ten points to Gryfindor," Ron said as he helped Hermione to her feet.

***

Dinner was a quiet affair. Both either preoccupied with exhaustion or their own thoughts, in Ron's case. Ron watched on in slight surprise as Hermione out ate him, not by much though. With a flick of Ron's wand, the dishes began cleaning themselves. He then led a very sleepy looking Hermione to the sofa where he sat and gently pulled her into his lap. He held her tightly in his arms and listened to her breathing and waited until it became slow and even.

"Are you still with me?" he asked in a soft voice.

Hermione gave a soft moan of protest; she had every intention to fall asleep in Ron's arms right there.

Ron gave a soft chuckle. "Are you saying that you don't want a _mentally stimulating conversation_ with me?"

"Yes," she sighed tiredly.

"I'm afraid you might just get one," he said with a laugh.

"What do you want, Ron?" Hermione said in an annoyed tone.

"Well since you asked so politely . . . How was your week?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It was fine, Ronald; thanks for asking," she replied sarcastically.

"How about the week before? It's been awhile since we've had a chance to talk." Ron felt Hermione stiffen.

_Damn, of course Harry told Ron about lunch. _"What did Harry tell you?"

"Oh the usual, You putting in too many hours, skipping lunch, . . . You kicking some arrogant git's arse for trying to hex you. . . . You know, the usual," Ron said in pseudo-casual voice.

Hermione hesitated. "Just the usual."

Ron waited for an explanation, but none came. "So you regularly threaten to curse every git that walks into your office. That's funny because Harry didn't say anything about you hexing him when he came to get you for lunch."

"That's because I don't usually consider Harry a git . . . came close today though."

Ron bit back his anger. "So what did this arse do to make himself a git in your book?"

Hermione dodged the question like one of Torres' hexes. "You know, acting git-like and such."

Ron nearly let out a growl of frustration. "I'm a bit rusty on git-like behavior, care to educate me?"

"I don't know, you seem to be doing a pretty good impersonation of one right now."

The only thing keeping Ron from pacing in aggravation was Hermione still being in his lap. "So he, what, asked you too many questions, made you dinner, cared about you too much? I'm a little lost at the moment," he said with his anger barely contained.

Hermione felt as if she'd been hit in the gut. She jumped to her feet and out of Ron's arms. "No, he pulled his _bloody_ wand on me because he thought it was _my _fault that he was being fined for building on centaur land!" she yelled.

Ron took hold of her wrist as she turned to leave the room. Hermione turn back to face him. Neither said a word, but both held the other's stare. After more than a minute Ron said in a quiet voice, "You didn't have to deal with it alone. Harry and I, we'll always be there for you if you need us."

Hermione looked away. "It hardly seems fair since I can't return the favor," she said in a whisper.

Ron paused. "I don't understand," he said gently.

Hermione eased her wrist out of Ron's grasp and walked to the kitchen. Ron followed and watched her draw a glass of water and sip it slowly with her back to him. "Do you ever second guess being an Auror?" she asked after finishing her water.

"Sometimes," he said truthfully. "George is still offering me a full partnership at the shop."

"Why don't you take it?" she asked.

"I don't know, I guess I feel like I still have work to do at the ministry . . . that there are still Death Eaters left to catch. I can't leave the ministry while it's still trying to get back on its feet."

Hermione nodded and stared at her empty cup.

"Are _you_ second guessing working for the R.C.M.B.?" Ron asked when she failed to go on.

"I don't know," she whispered.

_Hermione Granger doesn't know something . . . this can't be good._ Ron stood behind her and ran his hands slowly up and down her arms as she leaned forward onto the edge of the sink. "What's made you so unsure?" he whispered.

"Everything, it feels like," she said. "I'm so sick of everyone telling me I'm wasting my time there, that I'm wasting my time fighting for fairer laws for nonhuman species. . . . I'm sick of the political bureaucracy that keeps me for doing my job to the potential that I want to perform at. . . . I'm sick of feeling like I owe the wizarding world for not becoming an Auror," she finished in a whisper.

Ron gently turned her around to face him and stroked her face. "You owe the wizarding world nothing, not a single _bloody_ thing. . . . If anything, they owe you. You're the one who gave up a year of your life to save the bloody world, not to mention all of the times you helped to save the world while we were still in school."

"But you and Harry did all of that, too. I should still be out there fighting with you two,' she said in a fragile voice.

"But you are still fighting with us, 'Mione. Maybe not chasing down Death Eaters, but you've never really wanted to do that though, have you? That's what Harry and I have wanted to do since the war started up again. Even though you could probably still beat Harry and me in a duel, you've always been way more dangerous with a quill than a wand. You're trying to make sure Dobby didn't die in vain . . . trying to make sure the centaur's help in the war doesn't go unnoticed . . . that werewolves receive fairer treatment. . . . Should I keep going?" He wiped a stay tear from her cheek. "Your job is harder than mine and Harry's, and not just because of the paperwork." He smiled when he got a watery chuckle out of her. "The work you do does have a tendency to go unnoticed and unappreciated. . . . I wish I could change that, but like you said the bureaucracy at the ministry is still thick enough to cut with a knife. But if I know you as well as I think I do, if any one can do it, you can. You're that stubborn," he said with a smile.

Hermione looked away with a watery smile trying desperately to keep her composure. _I've already sobbed on Harry's shoulder today . . . I need to calm down. Ron can be so sweet sometimes . . . _"I've been a bit of an idiot lately, haven't I?" she asked Ron.

"Who, you? That's just not possible," he said with a chuckle.

"You've been trying to talk to me for weeks, but I just ignored you. . . . I-I'm sorry. I should have listened to you," she said with her voice cracking slightly.

"That's understandable . . . I mean, how often am I right anyway?" he said trying to brush off the apology.

"No, it's not. If I can't . . . I need you to talk me down sometimes, and if I can't even bring myself listen to you . . . It's not okay. . . . I'm not always right and you're not always wrong . . . It doesn't work that way," she said unable to look him in the face. "I don't understand why you put up with it - with me - for so long. . . . You deserve better."

Ron took Hermione's face in his hands and gently forced her to look him in the eye. "As far as I'm concerned, there is no one better for me than you," he whispered. "No one's perfect . . . we both have our faults, but we work through them. And if that's not a good enough reason for you then how about 'because I love you and care about you,'" he said with a smile.

Hermione stood there speechless for, what felt like to her, ages. _Never again will I accuse this man of having the emotional range of a teaspoon,_ she thought as she embraced Ron tightly. "I love you, too," she mumbled into his chest. In his arms, she felt so safe, so warm, so . . . "Ahh!" she hissed as Ron tightened his arms around her shoulders.

Ron loosened his hold and looked down with concern. "Are you okay?"

Hermione rotated her right shoulder slowly and grimaced. "I must have missed my shoulder when I was healing my numerous injuries from my play-date with your boss."

Ron grabbed her hand an led Hermione from the kitchen. "Well let me have a look at it then," he said with a grin.

Hermione laughed as they entered her bedroom. "This wouldn't by chance be one of your many ploys to try to get me to remove an article of clothing, would it?"

"I would _never _do such a thing! My only concern is your welfare," he said in mock-outrage. "Besides you wouldn't actually _have_ to take off anything. . . . Maybe just undo a few buttons or something . . ."

Hermione shook her head in slight disbelief, but took Ron's advice and, with her back to him, only undid a few buttons and slid her blouse off her shoulders. "What's the diagnosis, Healer Weasley?" She suppressed a shutter of pleasure as she felt his hands ghost over her bare skin.

"I'd have to say that this one was probably from your spill after the obstacle course," he whispered in her ear. He put the tip of his wand to the purple and blue flesh and watched as it quickly turned back to its normal tanned-cream spotted with the occasional freckle. "There we go, all better."

Hermione was about to thank him when she felt his warm hands kneading the sore muscles of her shoulders. Her thank you came out as a "Hmmm."

Ron smiled as he felt her relax under his hands. They could talk more in the morning, right now all Ron wanted to do was ease the physical pain of the woman in front of him. He let his hands trail down the naked flesh of her arms as his lips found their way to the soft skin of her neck.

Hermione's breath caught and coherent thought humanely ceased as she gave into Ron's soothing touch.

***

"Well it's about time, Miss Granger! Late back from lunch yesterday and late coming in this morning, is this a sign of what's to come?" Jean asked as Hermione walked in to work five minutes late the next morning.

Hermione gave her friend a tired smile. "Of course not, you know me better than that. I just had a late start this morning," Hermione said as she began to settle into her desk.

Jean walked over to her. "Hold still, 'Mi," she said while taking out her wand.

Hermione gave the woman an confused look, but obliged. Hermione felt Jean place the tip of her wand on the back of her neck, and cringed from embarrassment.

"So did a certain red-head of yours have anything to do with your _late start_ this morning or did the two of you have a _late night_ instead?" Jean whispered with a grin.

Hermione could feel her face burning. "Both."

Jean howled with laughter, effectively drawing all of the attention in the room to them. Hermione pretended not to notice by going through the abnormally large amount of memos on her desk. "Oh my goodness," she whispered staring at the longest of the pile.

Jean calmed herself enough to read the parchment over Hermione's shoulder and chuckled. "Now how many people receive a thank you note from what looks like the whole Auror department for besting their boss in a duel."

Hermione turned to her co-worker. "You know about that?"

"Honey, practically the whole ministry knows. I particularly enjoy that little note on the bottom requesting you not to mention the thank you to Auror Torres."

Hermione fell into her chair laughing as her other co-workers came to examine the note and congratulate her for her victory. As everyone settled back to their desks, Hermione returned to the pile of memos. Much to her surprise, the next one she opened was from Torres.

"'Mi, unless you're trying to catch flies, close your mouth," Hermione heard Jean say.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Torres wants me to moonlight for her department on occasion."

"Will you?"

Hermione smiled and shrugged. "I don't know," she said as she pulled out her research for their centaur project and prepared for the day.


End file.
